


Ridin' lessons

by panfremas



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: Dry Humping, F/F, First Time, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Orgasm, Orgasm Delay, Simultaneous Orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28400736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panfremas/pseuds/panfremas
Summary: Michelle looks for some alone time in Erin's room, with Erin's pillow. Clare, Orla and Erin rain on her parade, and Orla teaches Clare something new.
Relationships: Clare Devlin/Orla McCool
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Ridin' lessons

**Author's Note:**

> A/N — The world is crying out for some Derry Girls fanfics, and this is my humble addition. I’ve tried to write it in the style of the great Irish writer Roddy Doyle, which will be clearest in how dialogue is handled (long dash to set off start of speaking, anything after the period in the attribution also dialogue). Hope it’s clear enough and not too pastiche and doesn't lean to heavily on stereotypical Irish-isms.

It was nearly criminal, putting him on the telly like they did. UTV should have to pay a fine every time they broadcast that Robbie Williams. Pay back the nation’s girls for damage done to their knickers. And in the living room, in front of the bleeding old ‘uns as well. Feckin' Hell.

Course, if theyda stopped showing him, Michelle mighta had to rend all her garments, and that woulda done a good deal more damage than soaking her knickers, so it woulda.

Almost not worth thinking about.

Michelle, after what felt like years, finally made it up the stairs of the Quinns’ place to Erin’s room. 

Damn the Irish and their feckin' hatred of locks. No bother, she’d be quick about it, so she would. She’d pick a pillow and get after it. They wouldn’t even notice her gone.

Damn Erin and all her bleeding duvets. Michelle took the first pillow she found under the mass of comforters and sat down behind Erin’s bed, near the window but obscured from the door. 

She folded the pillow in half crosswise to create a firmer surface, then lay down on her side and opened her legs just slightly. She moved her plaid school skirt out of the way and brought the pillow between her legs. She pulled her white cotton knickers to one side of her labia, surrounded in equal measure by razor bumps from a recent attempt at shaving and by a dozen dark brown straggler curls she’d missed.

— Shite yes!

She groaned shuddered as she started to grind herself against the pillow. Sure, this would do the trick. She’d be off in no time, and back downstairs, so she would.

Soon, as her grinding intensified, her knickers stopped cooperating, and drew themselves uncomfortably between her flesh and the pillow on most upstrokes. Michelle sighed angrily and paused her work, quickly and briefly removing the pillow before tearing her knickers down and shimmying them to around her ankles. She brought the pillow back to its perch between her legs as fast as she could, and started grinding against it again, rediscovering her rhythm.

— Oh ride me hole, Robbie, right there!

She ground harder and harder, her hand tightening onto the pillow, silently urging it to rub more firmly against her and cursing under her breath as she began to feel her climax approaching.

— I’m close, Robbie, I’m close!

— Yer what?

All Clare could see when she walked into Erin’s room was a pair of tan legs poking out from behind the bed, a pair of white knickers strung between them and stretched as the legs spasmed of their own accord.

Immediately after Clare spoke, Michelle’s head popped up from the bed to join them.

— Jaysis, Clare! she yelled. What the Hell are ye doing?

— What are ye doing, Michelle?! she shot back.

— I’m saying the bleeding rosary so I am, Michelle said sarcastically. What does it look like I’m doing? I’m giving meself a ride, like.

Clare blushed deeply. Michelle was angry, the grinding between her legs stopped but the pillow still there.

— Yer wankin’? Clare asked, whispering the last word as if the Holy Blessed Virgin was in the room with them. Is that not a sin, so it is?

— It’s not wankin’ if you don’t use yer hands, like, Michelle responded. And it’s not a sin unless you put ‘em up yer hole.

— I don’t think that’s how that works, Michelle, Clare answered.

— Well ye can talk, Michelle spat back. Being a wee lesbian is a sin as well, so it is. Judge not lest ye be, and all that.

— Being a wee lesbian isn’t a sin, Clare said matter-of-factly. It’s the…doin’ stuff that’s the sin, like.

— So yer gonna be a wee lesbian who doesn’t do anything for her girlfriend, like? Michelle asked. Some kinda popular yer gonna be.

— I don’t know all this stuff like you do Michelle, Clare retorted, slightly hurt and more than a little embarrassed at her own experiencelessness. I don’t know what to do with a fanny.

— Christ Clare, Michelle said. I don’t have time to give ye the talk. It’s a hole. Ye rub on it. Ye get yerself off. It’s not rocket science. Which is what I’m trying to do here, like, before I was so rudely interrupted.

— Well what do ye want from me Michelle? I didn’t know that what ye was doin up here was wankin’!

— Oh are we all wankin’? said Orla, who had arrived in Erin’s room, drawn in on her way to the washroom by the open door. Never thought I’d do it with ye, no offense, like. But if we’re doing it, sure we are then.

Orla walked past Clare and over to look at Michelle, still sat up on the floor with her knickers around her ankles and Erin’s pillow between her legs. As she arrived, she began to unzip her skirt.

— Feckin’ Hell Orla we’re not all wankin’, Michelle blurted out. Keep your clothes on, will ye!? And can ye look away? I know yer not the wee lesbian, but I still don’t want ye looking up me hole, so I don’t.

Orla stopped and shrugged her shoulders, turning towards the far wall.

— Suit yerself then, she said noncommittally. Never thought to do it with a pillow, like. Clever.

— Michelle says it’s not wankin’ ‘less ye use yer fingers, Clare piped up, repeating the assertion like she was addressing a classroom.

— Good on ye Michelle, Orla considered, nodding. Guess we aren’t all wankin’ then. I don’t got time for the semantics meself though. I just use me fingers.

— Orla! Clare gasped, scandalized. She whispered the rest. That’s a sin!

— Oh fer the last time, it’s not wankin’ ‘less ye use yer fingers, but it’s not a sin to use yer fingers, Michelle said. Yer man doesn’t care ‘less ye put yer fingers up yer hole.

— Ah wicked, Orla said nonplussed. Yeah, I just rub on me button, so I’m in the clear then. Wicked.

— Yer what? Clare said.

— Right here like, Orla explained, lifting up her skirt and demonstrating on the area of her clitoris through her white knickers. It’s good craic, isn’it. Ye just give yer wan a rub up an’ down like, or in a circle. Don’t take too long neither.

— Jaysis Orla keep it in yer pants! Michelle said, exasperated. Ye’s givin’ our Clare wet dream material, like.

— Oh I don’t mind, Orla said, letting her skirt fall back into place. ’S hard enough being a wee lesbian anyway, so it is. And you ought’nt talk Michelle. Our Erin’ll be proper buzzin’ like. She sleeps her face on that one.

— On that what!? Erin said, appearing at the door and attracted in by the commotion. She stomped in and closed the door behind her.

— Ah Erin, Orla said, not a care in the world. Our Michelle’s jus’ havin’ a wee wank with yer pillow over there.

— Jaysis Orla! Michelle cried out.

Erin looked around at the scene she had encountered. Michelle was sitting up, her head appearing from behind her bed, and her legs visible beyond the foot of it, her knickers around her ankles. Clare was facing Orla with her skirt lifted up, looking down at her own crotch. Orla was looking at Erin now. And Erin was dumbfounded.

— Michelle says it’s not wankin’ ‘less ye use yer hands, Clare reiterated.

— Ah yer right, yer right, Orla remembered. Yer grand then, Erin, ‘cos ye use the water, so ye do.

— I do nothin’ of the sort! Erin objected.

— Aye ye do, Orla pushed. Ye say so in yer wee diary. Ye put yer hole under the faucet while ye fill bath so ye do.

— Jaysis Orla! Erin said, nearly in tears. That’s private! Stop readin’ me diary, will ye?

— Oh ‘sallright Erin, Michelle said. We all give ourselves a ride now and again. ‘Cept Clare here. She’s hopeless. The wee lesbian who don’t know the first thing about fanny.

— I am not! Clare said adamantly. She looked down at herself and reached the hand not lifting her skirt onto her knickers, tentatively stroking near where Orla had motioned.

— I’m not ready to talk to you yet Michelle, Erin said, walking toward her angrily. That’s me good pillow! And now it’s covered in yer —

Erin mimed, as best she could, an explosion of liquid.

— Like this, Orla told Clare quietly.

Orla took a step toward the blonde girl and motioned with her hand that she wanted to take Clare’s. Clare was shocked, but managed a small nod. Orla covered Clare’s hand with her own and repositioned it closer to where she suspected Clare’s most sensitive spot to be, analyzing the crease visible through the thin fabric. She pushed down on Clare’s index finger with her middle one and began to slowly stroke back and forth. 

Clare’s eyes fluttered shut and she humped against her own and Orla’s hand.

— Oh Jaysis Orla, Clare sighed. 

Michelle looked over at Orla and Clare.

— Ah feck even the wee lesbian’s gettin’ some action now, she said angrily yet painfully aroused. Can youse let me finish in peace? Feckin’ Hell.

— We’re not stoppin’ ye, Orla fired back as she took Clare’s hand in her own, interrupting Clare’s ministrations, and led her to Erin’s bed, where they lay side by side. I’m just gettin’ our Clare up to speed like.

Michelle stood up, holding the pillow in front of her stomach and crotch.

— Can youse all stop wankin’, or whatever it is when ye don’t use yer fingers, in my room?! Erin asked exasperated. And on my bed! Jaysis!

— Oh we won’t be long Erin, Orla assured her cousin. And you don’t want our Clare here not knowin’ about fanny, do ye? Some lesbian she’d be. Look here Clare —

Orla had pulled her skirt up toward her stomach, to reveal her knickers. She pulled their crotch and her left labia to one side with her left hand, revealing her inner vulva, blush pink in contrast to her pale white skin and surrounded by a layer of dark brown curls. She lifted one leg to give Clare a better viewing angle, and deliberately and carefully placed her index finger on her clitoral hood, looking up to make sure Clare was watching (she was, as were Erin and Michelle, intently), before she began to rub the sensitive organ up and down in short strokes.

— Like that.

Clare pulled her own skirt up beside Orla, but left her knickers on and tentatively slid a hand into them, finding the spot Orla had guided her to and mimicking, as best as she could the brown-haired girl’s motions on herself. Her eyes slammed shut as she let out an involuntary moan. 

Michelle knelt at the foot of Erin’s bed, between Orla and Clare’s bodies, and placed the pillow between her legs again. She spread her knees apart and lowered herself onto the folded pillow, grinding herself against it again, slowly for a few cycles before speeding up intensely.

— Feck this is hot ain’t it? Michelle said between heavy breaths. I might be a wee lesbian too after this. Or at least a bicycle, or whatever they’re called.

If Orla’s motions were deliberate, Michelle’s were manic. She had been so close to orgasm before Clare had arrived, and she kicked herself into high gear to close the narrow gap. She vigorously humped the pillow as she watched the girls before her masturbating. Soon, she had made up the ground and was coming in hot.

— Here it comes, girls! she announced, her breasts straining against her pressed white school shirt with every deep yet rapid breath.

In seconds, she was fecking this and fecking that, cursing as she bucked wildly against the pillow before her body spasmed and she fell to her side, leaning her head on the mattress with her eyes closed as she rode out the aftershocks.

— Feck that was the best ‘un I ever had, Michelle said, clearing her throat as she drew in heavy breaths to recover. Shite.

Erin stood watching the scene, digging her hand against her inner thigh through her skirt and knickers, resolved not to join in, less due to objection and more because she hadn’t had success when she’d tried using her hands.

When Michelle's eyes finally reopened, she found she had fallen such that her head was right at Clare’s feet, and her eyes were staring up at the white crotch of Clare’s knickers, which were stretching up and down as her finger rubbed her clitoris underneath. 

— That’s it Clare, Orla offered as encouragement. Jus’ keep a rhythm goin’ and yer grand.

— I think somethin’s happenin’ girls, Clare managed to warble out. I feel like I’m gonna wee meself!

— Y’aren’t Clare, Erin offered, eyes glued to Clare’s face as it contorted with pleasure. That’s jus’ what havin’ yer climax feels like when it starts.

— Keep goin’ Clare, Michelle said, not wanting to get left behind in the encouragement department. Yer doin’ grand.

— I think I’m — I think it’s — Clare moaned, the pitch of her breath rising as her legs went stiff and her bottom lifted from the mattress of its own accord. I’m gonna —

Clare’s hand stopped moving as her pelvis shook and her legs turned to jelly. Orla, who had been holding herself at the edge to avoid having Clare be the last one standing, rubbed quickly for a few seconds and reached her own orgasm, letting out a deep exhale and rolling slightly from one side to the other as she closed her legs tight around her hands.

As the pair recovered, Michelle pulled up her knickers and handed Erin back her pillow.

— Sorry about yer pillow Erin, she offered, half sincerely. It did a good job.

Erin took the pillow and removed it from its case as she walked over to her hamper, before throwing the case in. While there, she picked up a towel that had been hangning to dry since the previous evening.

— ‘Sallright Michelle it’ll wash out, she said, though she was barely thinking of her words or actions, her singular focus on reliving what she had just witnessed. I’m gonna have a wee bath, if that’s all right.

— Cheers Erin, Michelle said knowingly. Have fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it. For those of you who may be following my in-progress fics: the HP one is still being worked on. The next chapter is about 60% done. The RDR one is on hold for now, but I have all sorts of other stuff being written in fits and starts.


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